


Blood magic & Wine

by chroulvus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Magic, Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Canon Era, Canon Universe, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Smut, Fenris (Dragon Age) Smut, Fenris in Dragon Age: Inquisition, Flashbacks, Humor, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Lothering (Dragon Age), M/M, Maleficarum, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Rivalmance (Dragon Age), Rivalry, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chroulvus/pseuds/chroulvus
Summary: There is nothing inherently evil about blood magic, but instead the pride and desires of its users. The afflictions of escaping Lothering drove Hawke into the dark maleficarum arts, and there are difficulties in keeping his own desires in check, away from corruption.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

“It never ends… I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burnt into my flesh and my soul.” The voice of Fenris was unmistakable, coming from just around the corner as Hawke exited Danarius’s manor.

“And now I find myself in the company of yet _another_ mage. A blood mage at that.” His tone soured as he averted his gaze, fists clenched, strands of white hair obscuring his demeanour, yet nothing could hide the visible glow of lyrium markings that interweaved with his flesh.

Hawke scowled. Needless to say, explaining to everyone he encounters his choice in magic became tiresome over the past year or so. Sure, the smugglers he worked with did not ask many questions, but not everyone he met felt the uneasiness in confronting the ways of a blood mage.

Hawke raised both hands in defense, “Look, I’ve already tired myself enough today seeing all those ugly demons, I do not wish to hear another long-winded tirade against the use of blood magic. Perhaps you can defer it to a later date, maybe when that time comes I can even listen to it with a glass of wine?”

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I… apologize. You did help me back there, I do not want to sound ungrateful. I merely wish to know what manner of… mage… you are. What is it that you seek? Or more specially, what is it that you seek that requires _blood magic_?”

“Oh I don’t know, what every other broke Ferelden refugee seeks in a city full of political drama and oppressive Templars?”

Fenris remained silent, to which Hawke felt the need to make sure his words did not get misinterpreted. “And by that I mean coin. And a proper house to live in, if I am lucky.”

“I should have known earlier what you really were. My experiences can confirm the dire consequences in associating myself with mages on the brink of becoming abominations.”

Hawke was too tired to point out how Fenris completely ignored everything he just said. Instead, he looked over his shoulders to Varric for assistance.

“Alright elf, I know how hard it is to see past the use of blood magic, I’m still kind of not over it myself, having only met him a few weeks ago! But so far I have not seen any signs of Hawke losing control nor witnessed any goat sacrifices.” Varric winked, and Hawke raised an eyebrow in response. 

“I don’t want to go into the whole ethics of using blood magic right now in this wretched alley, I’m just saying sometimes it’s better to just put faith in someone rather than thinking too much. For now.”

“Well aren’t you radiating with confidence, Varric.” Hawke chuckled.

“I know I wouldn’t be if I were him.” Aveline said aside disagreeably, and Isabela said nothing the entire time, she was probably thinking up a thousand ways to coquette the elf, judging from her fierce stare and slightly lowered head.

“Why, you wound me, Aveline!”

It was clear for a moment that Fenris was about to draw his sword and turn on Hawke right this second. Yet somehow he changed his mind and instead said, “Perhaps you are right, dwarf… I understand not all mages are the same, but blood magic-”

“Then it’s settled! Let’s all go to The Hanged Man and get to know each other! Drinks on the house I am sure!” Hawke finally decided not to listen anymore as he promptly wrapped an arm around Fenris and dragged him down the streets. Given Fenris hasn't already attacked Hawke in response, Hawke took that as a deference to his ingenious antics.

Some time on the road, Hawke realized he was still hanging onto Fenris, but before he released him, he couldn’t help but notice a slight blush on his pointed ears. Hawke smiled a little before his attention shifted to the markings.

He waited until Isabela and Aveline finished their heated debate on Antivan poetry and said in a non-subtle way, “Fenris, was it? The fisting thing you did, tell me about it.”

“Excuse me?” Fenris responded with a mix of bewilderment and disarray.

“Back there, in the manor. You know, fisting, sticking your hand up something. Or rather, some _one_ , in your case.” Hawke continued in a serious tone, which made Isabela cover her mouth in amusement.

“Right, yes. Ahem.” He sifted his fingers through his hair as if attempting to hide his blush. “The markings gave me the ability. For good or ill, I cannot say.” He said in an equally serious tone.

For the remaining time on the way to The Hanged Man, Fenris disclosed some information about his markings, his former master Danarius and his escape, though he refused to say more. It was unwise afterall to mention your entire backstory to someone you’ve only met two hours ago.

At the entrance, Hawke opened the door allowing his party to enter the tavern first, faking a court bow for everyone as they went through the doorway, Aveline laughed and ruffled his hair before entering. Only Fenris paused before the door.

“I appreciate your gesture, though I fear I would need to leave you and your friends to the drinking while I return to Danarius’s mansion.”

“Why? To watch out for his tax collectors?”

“No…”

Hawke waited for Fenris’s excuse before realizing he probably had none. “I know it’s hard to trust a blood mage, knowing their reputation, but we’ll take it one step at a time, yes?”

He paused for a moment before continuing again, “I know! Maybe you just aren’t into taverns that much. You were from Tevinter or something right? How about some wine? I saw some in Danarius’s mansion, I’m sure he’s kind enough to perhaps give us a few samples?”

Fenris turned around and Hawke closed the tavern door to follow, “Woah, wait for me! Aren’t you keen for those Agreggio Pavali? Or maybe you’re more of an Antivan Brandy type of guy?”

Hawke did not realize what was going on but his reflexes told him to duck so he did. It saved him from being smacked into the filthy, pissy street grounds by the forceful swing of Fenris’s fist. Or perhaps the swing would go right through him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… to…” Fenris turned his back to Hawke once again, the steel of his broadsword reflected the moonlight with a similar shade to his pale hair. “Goodnight. Hawke.”

And with that, Fenris disappeared around the corner to Hightown.

When Varric went out to look for Hawke, he was standing alone. He walked up to him and said, “Not going to lie, Bianca and I decided that you two were already having the time of your lives, engrossed in passion in the back alleys of Lowtown as time paused around you. In fact, we even bet money on it. Two sovereigns.”

“Spare me the details.”

“What? We were talking about a sword fight! A duel under the moonlight! Though the exact nature of the sword fight we were talking about… Well, up to the reader’s interpretation I guess.”

Hawke shook his head, “Oh, Varric…”

“Anyways, where did the elf go?”

“Probably left to get drunk. Alone.”

“That’s… kind of sad. You didn’t offer to join him?”

“I thought you already know me well enough that I would never pass up an opportunity to get drunk alone… With another person. Or elf.”

“What did he say then?”

“Goodnight.”

It seemed Varric was waiting for Hawke to say more, and when he didn’t, Varric started to drag Hawke in the direction of The Hanged Man.

“No, Varric, it’s way past my bedtime.”

“Hawke said sarcastically as he made no effort to escape from the dwarf’s firm grasp.”

“I’m not actually in the mood for drinks tonight, not without Fenris, at least. I was looking forward to getting to know him better.”

“Let me translate that for you, you want to get the elf drunk and then bed him.”

“Exactly! Wait, I meant that in a perfectly friendly way. We’ve just met each other you know.”

They stopped at the entrance of The Hanged Man once again, except this time it was Hawke who refused to enter.

“You said you wanted to get rid of him on our way out from the mansion!” Varric said, slightly amused by Hawke’s sudden change of heart.

“That was because I was scared he’s going to kill me. Now that I have the information that he’s not going to kill me, among other information… Of course I would want to get closer to him.”

“What _other_ information are we talking about?”

“Why, the information that Fenris has great taste in men, of course!”

Varric lifted an eyebrow, “Are you sure you just met him? Even I didn’t catch anything regarding the so-very-friendly camaraderie on our way here.”

“Trust me, Varric. My instinct has gotten us far.”

“I believe the only thing your instinct has done for you so far was helping you to decide whether to side with the Red Irons or the smugglers, chuckles.”

“Anyways, Varric, thank you for your concern. Tell Isabela and Aveline I have a severe case of diarrhea and on the way going to see Anders.”

“Alright, Hawke, I believe you know what you’re doing.” Varric smiled at him before entering The Hanged Man, closing the creaky door behind him.

Now, it is up to Hawke and his superior sense of directions to make his way back to Danarius’s mansion.

* * *

Fenris just exited the cellars when he heard vigorous knocking at the door. He drew his blade and approached the entrance gingerly before hearing that the knocking had evolved into some sort of bad rhythm, then into the beats of a waltz, then back into regular knocking. When Fenris finally reached it, the knocking had stopped, and he started to hear failed attempts to whistle instead.

He kicked the door open, it banged into something and the thing made a noise.

“Hawke?” Fenris said suspiciously, his broadsword still in front of him.

“I should learn this very innovative way of opening doors the next time carta thugs come to Gamlen’s home. Actually, maybe it will be a bad idea, his door is not so sturdy like yours.” Hawke moved out of the proximity of the door’s sliding angles and stepped inside the mansion,

“What are you doing here?” Fenris demanded, not lowering his guard.

“Me? Well, I was going to come help you clean the mansion.”

“Clean the mansion?”

“What, you’re just going to leave these bodies and demon bits lying around?” Hawke pointed behind Fenris,

“I have no need of your assistance.”

“But magic is so convenient when it comes to cleaning! Have I told you about how I can make brooms sweep by themselves?”

“I’ll ask again, what are you doing here? Mage?” Fenris eyes Hawke’s staff but becomes puzzled when he sets it against the wall and lowers Fenris’s sword with his palm.

“I’m sorry, Fenris, but let’s try building some trust. I know I am a mage, and obviously you should never trust a mage, but how about for tonight you can just see me as… Hawke?” Hawke smiled,

Fenris was clouded by Hawke’s actions, but sees no harm in them. He replaced his sword to his back and walked towards the cellar, gesturing Hawke to follow.

“Danarius left his precious wine collection right here, in this mansion.” Fenris said as he went down a set of stairs and opened a door, “If he values his expensive wine and slave, I am sure he’ll come back for them.”

Hawke’s eyes glistened as he clicked his fingers and the candles on the walls of the cellar lit up, revealing a luxurious vault of allsorted wine and other alcohol. Danarius can be an evil Tevinter magister, but he sure does have good taste when it comes to these matters.

Fenris was slightly startled by Hawke’s use of magic, “Did you just… lit all the candles?”

“It’s a cool party trick, I know.”

Fenris lets out a small smile, and Hawke catches it. “I don’t see any used torches lying around, do you just linger in this dark mansion using your super elf hearing or something?”

“No.” He said as he conjured a piece of the fade, and his lyrium markings began to glow with a tint of blue.

“Woah… That must come in handy.”

“I’m sure it’ll have its uses when all the candles in the mansion are exhausted.” Fenris selected a particular bottle of wine without reading the labels, and headed for the stairs again.

They sat in what was supposed to be a bedroom. It seemed like a long time ago when anyone had properly lived in it, yet the constant presence of demons and magisters had kept the furniture free of dust. The fireplace was lit, and any insects that inhabited it were either cremated or turned to stone by Fenris’s gaze, making the place relatively clean. There was a bed in the corner, along with some books on a shelf and a closet. The tiled floor had not aged well, and there were thin slits on the walls Hawke could only interpret as poor architectural excuses for windows. It also seemed that what really looked like windows were on the ceiling - The moonlight was nice, but does not make up for the possibilities it brings for assassins and stalkers.

A wooden table and some chairs were already warmed thanks to their closeness to the fireplace, to which Fenris invited Hawke to settle down on.

“You’re not particularly well stocked, aside from all the wine, of course.” Hawke remarked, Fenris didn’t seem like the cooking type, neither did he seem like the type to clean up the bodies scattered all over the place, even if there’s one right next to the bed.

“I’m sure I’ll get by.” Fenris responded, his sharp gauntlets dug into the cork of the wine bottle and pulled, it flung across the room and bounced off the walls, rolling back close to where Hawke’s legs were. Hawke picked it up and settled it on the table.

Fenris was already chugging on the wine, then he threw it towards one of the walls, shards and red liquid forming a rather abstract piece which quite nicely contrasted the bland and gray walls. “It’s good I can still take pleasure in the small things.”

“I thought you were going to offer me a glass first, I did go with you all the way into the cellar”

Fenris chuckled, “There are more, if you are really interested. Though I am afraid I have not yet found any suitable kitchenware for fine dining.”

“Perish the thought! How else are you going to redecorate the walls?”

Fenris laughed this time, and Hawke had never felt so accomplished.

Fenris told him about his time as a slave, his markings, his time serving Danarius, his escape… “My past is gone now,” he said, “along with everything I had. Assuming there was something to begin with.”

“It really must be difficult for you, Fenris. I’m sorry to hear that all this happened to you.” Hawke said. He had not met a Tevinter slave before, but he was certain no slaves could have led easy lives.

“But enough about me.” Fenris sets one of his arms on the table, facing Hawke, “What about you? I am quite interested in how you and blood magic got along.”

“My family escaped from Lothering when the Blight caught up with it.” Hawke responded, “We were one of the last ones to leave, and demons were catching up to us. My sister Bethany fended our escape, she’s with the Maker now.”

“I… I am sorry to hear that. This hasn’t been long ago, I assume?”

“No… After Bethany passed away, I didn’t feel safe at all. As a mage, my connections to the fade were always poor, it’s a miracle really that I could even perform any kind of magic. We couldn’t carry many things with us, but in what we did manage to salvage, I found one of my father’s tomes. On blood magic. I practiced it when mother and Carver were resting, and it just came naturally to me… Better than any other magic did. My sister was always so talented, it doesn’t feel like she’s not with us anymore.”

“I see… You and your family were desperate.”

“We were. Then this giant ogre came at us and well, I’ll just say if it wasn’t for the blood magic I learnt in that short span of time, we wouldn’t be here today. Carver almost died there and then.”

Fenris leaned back into his chair and looked towards the fading flames. No one had gotten up in the past two hours to fuel the flames, he wondered if they would still be sitting when the room is illuminated by nothing but moon beams. Or perhaps the sun, if they sit long enough.

“Well, Fenris, I’ve had a great time talking with you. I must get home before Gamlen locks the door to his house. Or maybe he would have already done so.” Hawke got up from his seat, “My party and I are running around town gathering coins, your help would be invaluable in the days to come.”

“Of course,” Fenris nodded, and saw Hawke out of the door.

“I usually take a party of three, big enough to count, small enough to not draw too much attention. You could join us tomorrow morning at The Hanged Man, if you don’t mind coming along.”

“In that case, I will see you tomorrow, Hawke.”

Hawke walked out a few streets before he heard rustling from the almost non-existent bushes decorating the flimsy walls of Hightown buildings. He was about to get ambushed by possibly the worst thugs ever to walk in Kirkwall, yet he realized soon he was nothing but a defenceless man when he remembered his staff was still sitting in Fenris’s mansion when he let go of it for peaceful diplomacy.

The thugs jumped out of the bushes and lined up, yelling some of the most cliché pre-memorized lines to the same effect of “your money or your life”.

Mages did not need staves to be dangerous, but Hawke was an exception. He has never been talented at conjuring magic, and without a staff as a tool to channel his powers, his best option at the moment was to run.

“Hey… Aren’t that the mage who beat up Stefan n’ the boys last week?” One of the thugs mentioned to his leader,

“Yeah… Now that you mention it, he does look like him! I’m sure the boss will be very happy if we can take him in alive!” The leader edged closer to Hawke as he drew his daggers tactfully.

The thugs formed a semi-circle as they enclosed themselves towards Hawke, forcing him to back off against a wall. He tried to pretend to look like he had some trick up his sleeve, but one of the thugs knew better.

“Aye, he doesn’t seem like he can fight back! Where’s his mage rod thingy?”

“Hmm… you’re quite right! The only stick he has right now I bet doesn't even work well!”

The thugs broke into a guffaw as some of them withdrew their weapons and fearlessly walked towards Hawke. Hawke started to regret refusing all the martial training Carver had offered him, brushing it off with how being a mage, he’ll never get to use the skill.

He tried to run towards a gap in the thugs’ formation, but they caught his arms and pushed him onto the ground. They seized his hands, took off his gloves and grabbed his neck, he felt ropes beginning to restrain the movement of his wrists, and hands that patted him down for weapons and coins. They found a knife in his boot, a small kitchen knife of no significant value, but Hawke blinked to himself and finally learnt who stole Gamlen’s only good knife left. Hawke swore he sneaked it out some weeks ago, making a mental promise to return it later, then a few weeks passed and the entire household was looking for it, Hawke even joked about what kind of petty clown steals things belonging to _Gamlen_ out of all the people in Kirkwall.

“You think them mages can cast spells using their feet too?”

“Don’t ask me, fool! But tie em’ up to make sure.”

“Shouldn’t we knock him out as well so he doesn’t know where our base is?”

“Shut up! I’m in charge here! Now I say, knock him out.”

Hawke was preparing a blow to the back of the head before he witnessed the thug receiving a blow to _his_ head instead. All the thugs turned around in unison and immediately drew out their weapons. Hawke seized the opportunity to headbutt the thug on top of him, causing him to roll over, and he extended one of his legs to trip another thug over as he ran towards whatever danger was approaching them.

He did not understand what led Fenris to tracking him down. It was bad to leave traces behind for others to track, but Hawke did not complain this time. He saw Gamlen’s kitchen knife aside and almost sat right on top of it when he tried to reach it behind his back using his tied hands, meanwhile Fenris dashed past him to attack another thug. By the time Hawke managed to cut the ropes binding him sitting down, the fight was already over.

“That was quick, I was about to sit back to enjoy the show.” Hawke looked up to Fenris hovering over him,

Fenris extended a bloody gauntlet towards Hawke before realizing neither its sharpness nor bloodiness would do Hawke’s hands any good. He was about to withdraw before Hawke grabbed onto it and Fenris helped him up. Now Hawke was hovering over Fenris instead.

Fenris thought that Hawke’s hands would have been cut by his gauntlet, but to his surprise, Hawke merely wiped the blood off on his trousers and picked up the kitchen knife to tuck into the hidden contraptions on the side of his boot.

“Your hands…” Fenris muttered. Hawke’s hands were big, rough, and covered in scars and calluses. They did not look like normal injuries, but instead the works of repeated slices of knives, cut again and again into the same flesh. Many that did not heal were already cut again.

Hawke found his gloves lying beside a thug’s body and put them on, “Did you say something?”

“I… No. Here.” Fenris reached to his back and obtained Hawke’s staff, then handed it to him.

“And here I thought I was the only one with perfect timing, rushing in to help the defenseless at just the right time, with the drama and all.” Hawke retrieved his staff and secured it onto his back.

“Anyways, thanks for your help, Fenris. I better get this knife back to Gamlen.”

“Hawke.” Fenris called out just as Hawke was about to step away, “Are you sure you are fine on your own?”

“I mean,” Hawke turned around to face Fenris once again, “I wouldn’t say no to a handsome elf walking me home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke had 4 hours of sleep before preparing to leave Gamlen’s house. Leandra was considerate enough to put one of the spare keys out for Hawke to find, otherwise he would have to make do while resting by leaning against the walls. The cool pose was tempting to try out, but Hawke was sure if he had left himself sleeping outside, he would be stripped to nothing but his most personal assets by daylight.

“When did you come home last night, Garrett? I hope everything was fine.”

“Don’t worry, mother, the only thing you’ll have to worry about is the possibility of these walls cracking from Carver’s thunderous snoring.” Hawke said as he fastened his boots, only then was he reminded of Gamlen’s kitchen knife, to which he ‘borrowed’.

“How can you say that? Your snoring is much worse than mine! You always fall asleep before me so _I’m_ the one having to deal with it every single night.” Carver responded bitterly.

“Right. Hey, Gamlen, catch!” Hawke made a fake move to throw the knife to Gamlen, who almost rolled onto the floor when he turned around from washing the dishes to see Hawke’s assertive gesture.

“You little… Give me that!” Gamlen stomped towards Hawke and snatched the knife off him, as if it was something precious to him. “I hope you didn’t do any of your little dirty blood tricks with it.”

“Keep your hopes up.” Hawke said in return, “See you, mother. Carver, take good care of her.”

“You’re leaving me behind again?” Carver frowned, “I am-”

“Quit being an infant, Carver. I’ll take you out sometime this week. I think.” And with that, Hawke left the house. Or shack, rather.

He noticed the rope burns on his wrists and remembered the events of last night. Then he remembered going to Fenris’s mansion, they spoke and drank wine. Wait, no. Only Fenris drank wine. Right! Fenris also went to his rescue, that was something worth remembering. He had invited Fenris to come along with him today. Hawke silently gave an inner compliment to his past self. Good move.

“Garrett,” someone called him and he turned at the sound of his name, Leandra had come out too. He didn’t forget his staff again, right?

“Yes, mother, did you need anything?”

He was quite a bit taller than his mother. He remembered having to look up at her the same way she does to him now. The way he looked up to her, and his father in the past… He remembered working in the fields with Malcolm. A younger version of him much more playful and ignorant, before the days of having to take responsibility for younger siblings. The day was hot, and he followed in his father’s steps returning to the farm house. He was tired, and Malcolm’s tall legs carried him faster than Hawke could. He fell behind, small hands grasping at the grips of the wicker basket he carried. It was heavy for him, and the weight at the handle pained his fingers. Small bugs swarmed into his way, coalescing with sweat that lined his cheeks and neck. He dropped the basket of produce in panic and waved his hands to rid of the swarm, only to feel something burning. His father rushed towards him and pushed him onto the dirt, rolling him until the flames were out.

Face dirty and covered with countless dead insects, it occured to Hawke that the flames came from nowhere other than his own fingers, conjured from his fears. He had hoped that one time he managed to freeze those spiders in the backyard with nothing but a gesture would never happen again, but this time it was worse.

He hated spiders. Damned things.

“I’m just worried about you. You’ve made great many friends but I don’t want you to be involved in anything dangerous. I don’t want to pry into your adventures in the city either but… Just be careful out there, will you?” She eyed his rope burns and placed a hand on his cheek.

“There’s no need to worry, mother. I’ll get your estate back in no time.” He hugged her and was just about to be on his way before she caught him again,

“You know, Garrett, I… I know I haven’t said much about your use of… your choice of magic. I know you can control it well but its risks are just… I can’t risk losing you too. You’ve always hid your magical abilities well, I’m sure if you try, you can pick up a sword like Carver and…”

“I’m fine, mother, really. I won’t turn into one of those ugly abominations.”

“Before we left Lothering, you always used magic sparingly. Your daggers are never touched again after our escape, what changed?”

“I… Look, mother, I’ve been invited to this fancy party with uh, important people wearing mustaches and big hats and going around snatching their colorful frilly cakes. And I haven’t even been shopping! Tell you what, I’m going to wear something just as frilly and blend in with the cakes, and - and then… Gosh, look at the time, mother! I have got to be off. See you!”

“Be safe!” Hawke walked away and Leandra’s figure disappeared soon after.

* * *

Hawke spotted Fenris and called out to him. Fenris was almost startled, but soon relaxing upon seeing Hawke. Hawke decided he likes seeing Fenris. They talk on their way together to The Hanged Man.

“Do no thugs ever attack you at night in Hightown? What’s your secret? Do you have something like a... highwaymen pass? The premium edition?”

“No. I suppose my appearance merely intimidates them.”

“Really? I don’t see why they would be put off.”

Fenris touches his neck, slightly flustered. “You know… Hawke, we’ve just met. Yesterday.”

“Indeed. Your point being?”

“Well, I suppose I notice… Ahem. Nevermind, let’s move on.”

“Ah! I forgot to introduce you to my friends. There’ll be Varric today, the dwarf you met last night. Also Anders, who…” Hawke squints his eyes around the streets close to The Hanged Man, “is not here. Huh. Strange.”

“Mornin’, chuckles.” The dwarf was already waiting, “Blondie didn’t turn up today, I was just wondering if we’ll go looking for him.”

“Varric! How did last night go with Isabela and Aveline?” Hawke extended his arms while walking towards the dwarf, Varric walked right underneath it towards Fenris.

“So, elf, how’d things go last night with Hawke?”

Fenris eyed Varric, “You are aware?”

“Of course! Hawke always goes right after things he likes. Or people. Or, well, elves.”

“Now, now, Varric,” Hawke interrupted, “I hate to break this to you but we need to look for Anders right away. The party we’re attending tonight is extra important.” He smoothly circled back to his companions after his hug was dodged, and stood next to Fenris to face Varric.

“Yes, Hawke, I would know because just maybe I’m the one who told you about it in the first place? Bianca can’t wait to see the fancy masks and hats that will be in store.”

“I’m sorry but, is this something I should perhaps know about? Given it’s looking like I’m coming along with you?” Fenris asked,

“Ah, yes, of course! I will explain everything on our way to Anders’s clinic.” Before he even finished, he was already walking away.

Varric was quick to follow, “Maybe he’s just not feeling well today? We could always bring Aveline along instead.”

“She’s too noticeable with the guards. She patrols around here often, no?”

“Daisy, then?”

“I’m afraid she might talk too much and give everyone away the moment we walk in.”

“Your darling brother Carver!”

“No. He’s grounded.”

“Seriously?”

“Only as serious as your suggestion.”

“Alright, alright. How about Isabela- Wait, no. I’ll take that right back.”

“Exactly. We’ll also need medical assistance in case someone laces our drinks, am I quite right?”

Varric sighed, “Alright, Hawke, I guess you do have a point. It’s not like any of these nobles are going to recognize an apostate from Darktown anyhow. Though you are also certain the elf is appropriate to bring along?”

“Of course, we’ve already known each other for 10 hours!”

Fenris stayed silent for the most part on the way, filled with skepticism and disbelief that this ‘Hawke’ character is the same type of blood mage he’s been loathing his entire life.

* * *

From Hawke’s experience, Darktown would never be so noisy at this hour. The fact that it is probably means something has gone south.

“Anders.” Hawke’s steps quickened to a run, and was sprinting by the time they reached the clinic. 

Anders was overcome by Justice, dead Templars laid at his feet. 

Another one of the Templars charged towards him, though to no avail. Bolts of pure smite landed upon him and he was no more. His sword and shield dropped along with his body, then Justice stabbed the sharp edge of his staff through his neck, severing the head, blood splattered across the floor and seeped through the eye slits of the helmet.

“An abomination.” Fenris drew his sword and leaped towards the thing, not hearing Hawke’s shouts behind him. His lyrium markings glowed and he went for it. A swing of the broadsword, but Justice stepped out of the way with ease and commanded a bolt of fire crashing down. Fenris was quick enough to move away, though at the cost of furthering the distance between them.

At the sound of a crossbow firing, the abomination seemed to be struck by something small yet painful. His momentary stun allowed Hawke to push him over and get on top of him. With one hand grabbing his hair, Hawke called out his name, telling him there are no more Templars in his clinic. 

The abomination was about to resist, but then, it was as if something went off in its body. A small explosion of unknown magic, strings of the veil formed hazes of disturbed air and threw Hawke right off.

Fenris was about to seize the opportunity and finish off the mage, before he heard Hawke commanding him to stop.

Seeing the abomination coming to his senses, he reluctantly withdrew his weapon.

Hawke got up and patted the dust off his clothes. “Well, those weren’t the best introductions, but uh. Fenris, this is Anders. Anders, Fenris.” He leant a hand to the abomination, now seemingly in control of himself.

Anders got up. His hair was loose but there were no further signs of possession it seemed. “Thank you, Hawke… I could’ve… What a mess I have made, I must make arrangements to relocate my clinic soon, the Templars are going to send more men, I… I didn’t hurt any patients, did I?”

“Calm down, Anders. But first of all, ahem.” Hawke looked at him and back to his hands, which Anders still tightly held on to.

“Sorry.” The healer let go.

“Right. Second of all, if the Templars truly wanted to get rid of you right now, would they have only sent… Five? Six? After you?” The Templars were most likely drunk in broad daylight, wandering through the streets with nothing better to do and ended up in Darktown.

“I don’t remember what happened! They were… they were assaulting my patients, I had to do something, and then…”

“An abomination. What company you keep.” Fenris said, looking at Anders with nothing but disgust.

“Oh boy, I can see where _this_ is going.” Varric placed one of his hands on his forehead,

“Please, Anders, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you don’t get any more Templars at your doorstep again… uh… today.”

“Your statement reassures me so much, Hawke.”

Anders finally noticed Fenris, though he did not bother introducing himself. Neither did Fenris, after seeing and calling him an abomination. And tried to kill him. Anders looked away quickly and centered his attention back to Hawke. “What is it we have to prepare today? I’ve wasted enough of your time already.”

“Right. Now that everybody is here, I can get on to explaining.” Varric stepped in while Hawke stepped out to get others to clean the bodies up.

“Long story short, we are attending a party tonight, for intel on a special cargo that could make us a great deal of sovereigns. Now before you gentlemen get too excited, the thing is… We are not exactly invited.”

“I assume then you have plans to get us in.” Fenris said,

“Of course, elf, it’s me we’re talking about! My information tells me there is this bastard son of some noble family who was also invited. No one has seen him before in Kirkwall so no one is going to notice if we do a little bit of… swapping. Plus, the party also involves masks! It’s an Orlesian thing in case you’re curious. That just makes things a little easier.”

“That’s right.” Hawke circled back to the group, “We’ll ‘borrow’ his assets, including his invitation letter, make sure everything is convincing.”

“Well, that’s only one of us, what about the other three?” Anders asked,

“Good question, blondie,” Varric replied, “The rest of us will play bodyguards.”

* * *

The rest of daylight hours were spent ‘preparing’, as Hawke called it. It was mostly going through back-up plans if things go out of hand, and also practicing some convincing Orlesian accents, though Fenris was not convinced that Hawke’s impressions of Orlesian nobles were the best anyhow.

They waited at the right time and place for the noble son to show up. It was a small alleyway and Varric was prepared to drop some sleeping gas bombs down from the balconies they hid on.

“Why would Orlesian nobles gather in Kirkwall? And why would they pass through a dodgy alleyway like this?” Anders said, slightly concerned that all this may be a set-up.

“Mostly for trade reasons. If some of them could set up a route in Kirkwall, especially with the amount of Templars in this place, they’d make a fortune.” Varric responded, “As for your latter question, this one is just poor, he doesn’t have fancy escorts and I hear he likes taking short-cuts.”

“How are we going to get down there again?”

“Were you even listening to me earlier, blondie? See that rope over there?...”

Fenris stopped listening to the conversation and instead looked around to see what Hawke was doing.

“Hey.” Hawke said as Fenris made eye contact with him. He sat on a chair, tossing his staff from one hand to the other like a child, though he stopped when Fenris looked in his direction.

Fenris walked towards him and sat on a bench, “You don’t really come across as a blood mage.”

“You’re still brooding over that?”

“I, no. I don’t, brood.”

“Well, in that case, what _do_ I come across as? Handsome? Dashing? Excessively charming perhaps?”

Fenris smiled, “I’m sure many people are aware of your finer qualities, Hawke.”

“So are _you_ one of those people?” Hawke smiled back, 

“In time, perhaps.”

“Tell me, now that you have a giant mansion that once belonged to a powerful Tevinter magister, what are you going to do with it? Surely you are not just going to sit in there all day drinking wine, as tempting as it may sound.”

“I should abstain myself from all the best wine, they are limited after all. Though I do plan to wait for Danarius to show up sooner or later.”

“And then?”

“Rip his heart out.”

“Charming fellow. I hope that’s not the only way you steal people’s hearts.”

“What? I… Um. Anyhow, I’ll also provide my assistance to you if you require. Though I won’t hesitate putting down a blood mage gone out of control, I heard there’s plenty of those already in Kirkwall.”

“Yeah? I wonder which blood mage you’re talking about.”

“Quiet! Hawke! I think I see a group coming.” Varric hissed, Hawke went to the edge of the balcony and saw a small squad which matched the description Varric gave earlier. Four people, brown cloaks. The one in the center surrounded by the other three must be the man they’re after.

“I hope they’re wearing good stuff under those cloaks. I heard Orlesians like their frills around the neck.”

“Alright, be ready in three.”

Varric dropped some sort of smoke grenade infused with sleep-inducing chemicals. It landed onto the area in front of the travellers and broke into a thick white fog. It didn’t take long for the group to get knocked out. Hawke’s party descended from the balcony into the alley following Varric’s directions, and began the process of vigorously stripping their clothes off.

“Varric,”

“Yes, Monsieur Hawke?”

“How do you think I’ll look in a frilly dress? With embroideries and corsets and what not.”

“I think the image alone is enough to make my eyes bleed, why do you ask?” Varric was already half-way done fitting himself into the human guard’s clothing. It was tight, but the flexible material just needed some simple cuts at the limb extensions and a dwarf will fit right in.

“Really? What if I told you that you’re likely to be seeing it in person, right now, actually?”

Varric almost dropped Bianca when he heard that. Hawke had placed the bastard son against a wall, whose cloak was taken off, revealing the most attractive center-piece of the person, which could be interpreted as mature, ripe bosoms bound by a thin lacy dress.

Andraste’s flaming tits, the bastard son is a woman?!

“Shit, did we get the wrong group of people?” Anders turned, stunned at the sight,

“No… The crest I’m seeing here is definitely it… I’m going to kill my informant the next time I see him.” Varric frowned,

“How could this piece of extraordinarily pivotal information be wrong?” Hawke questioned, he was already stripping the woman and Fenris had no idea what he was up to.

“Getting information on some obscure bastard son of a little known Orlesian family of tradesmen was hard enough, but shit, who named this poor lady? Her life must be harder than my informant’s.”

“Then is tonight’s operation called off?” Fenris asked,

“Alas, we’ll have to just - make do - with…” Hawke was already pulling the dress up, “... what we have. Here we go.”

“Hawke. You have got to be kidding me.” Anders tried keeping himself from bursting into laughter. Hawke wearing a full Orlesian noblewoman’s frilly dress, undergarments included, as well as a full on beard.

“Fenris, help me with this corset, I have never worn one before. Wait, is it even the right way around?” He turned to Fenris, who seems to have a mix of embarrassment, amusement and bewilderment all at the same time. A rare combination indeed.

“No, Hawke, they’ll never be convinced some bearded man is the daughter of a family of Orlesian merchants! As confident as you may be of your impression of well, women in general.”

“Look, Varric, this mask she carried is huge! It covers the entire face. My beard will be safe from public eyes. You can help me do all the talking, I’ll just do a, uh, high pitched grunt every now and then to affirm your statements. Easy.” He finished his sentence and almost choked to death when Fenris began to pull on the corset, he seemed to be oblivious of Hawke’s pain.

“Well… If you are this desperate to salvage this event, then I suppose it won’t hurt by just going. At worst we’ll be kicked out for some bad actors. Assuming we can get past the entrance at all.”

Hawke could not respond, he had reached his limit on how far in the corset could go. Which was not far. His muscles bulged from all parts of the dress unnaturally, his shoulders were too broad and his curves weren’t pronounced enough to look convincing. His height didn’t help either. He was taller than everyone by at least half a head if not more.

“Right… Varric. Did you say something? It… It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go before I prematurely go see the Maker.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Let me ask you, guard, how dare you insult her ladyship such that her appearance is not fit to be invited into the mansion? Do you have any idea whatsoever of the wrath you will face if our mistress makes not-so-kind decisions on your behalf?”

“What - Certainly not, monsieur! I was merely…”

Varric pulled the guard aside and spoke in a lower voice, “Her ladyship Chappuis often recieve discrimination for her… undue physique. Can’t you see women comes in all shapes and sizes? For you to assume her a man… I… Look, I don’t want to upset her more than you already have, we have the invitation and everything. I have a sack of savings here from my last month’s pay, surely you would see reason?”

Hawke stood patiently as he fondled the feathers on his hat, he also attempted to look at his nails as to be more lady-like, but then realized both his hands were covered in a layer of silk gloves. Are those sweat stains?

Fenris stood aside looking down as if to hide his face from the ridiculous situation, he occasionally looked down at the soles of his shoe and kicked the floor uncomfortably. Varric had forced him to put them on.

Anders, on the other hand, did his best to conceal either a smile or laughter while looking at Hawke, though he was not doing a good job at it.

“I…” The guard scratched his head as he looked suspiciously at the so-called Lady Chappuis with her flamboyant mask and the questionable amount of muscles and arm hair which her long white gloves could hardly hide.

“Herh.” She grunted in acknowledgement in a strange pitch, which did little to help with the guard’s doubts.

“It’s pretty hefty.” Varric urged as he juggled the pouch of coin. The guard seized the pouch quickly and hid it in his clothes, then stood aside silently to let the guests enter. Varric smiled at him and gestured for Hawke to step inside.

Hawke lifted his dress, then his leg, though the maneuver far exceeded his capability in heels and he fell sideways. Varric almost jumped at the sight, knowing the impact would surely knock his mask off. Luckily, Fenris stepped forward in time to catch him, and continued holding Hawke’s hand in his second attempt of going up the stairs to the mansion’s entrance. Anders seemed a little frustrated at the view and proceeded to hold Hawke’s other hand. Fenris glared at him, and Anders returned the expression. Varric brought his palm to his face as he began to regret his choice of company.

The large wooden doors opened for them and they were greeted by two elven servants that did not manage to conceal their surprise at the sight of a tall bulky figure in fancy dress holding the hands of a white haired elf and a blonde man, who were both shorter than their ‘lady’.

Hawke let go of their hand and observed his surroundings. The party was beginning to get noisy, servants patrolled the floors offering refreshments and alcohol, while well-dressed noblemen and women each held a glass while conversing, making elaborated gestures that made up for wearing masks. An impressive chandelier hovered above, dangling from a tall ceiling three floors high of white walls and framed paintings the size of a person. The stairs revolved up to the second floor, which had railings and curious guests looking down at the last people to arrive. Below them were red drapes, buffet tables, and even a red-haired bard performing a most wonderous tune.

Hawke felt a little overwhelmed by all the swarms of people which packed the floor, though luckily his height allowed him to navigate through the crowd with relative ease. They found a relatively spacious area with less people to discuss their plans.

“Is it bad I’m starting to see stars already? Here I thought the party just started.” Hawke spoke finally when no one was within ear-reach, he felt his waist and realized he could not feel much at all, not a good sign.

“It suits you, Hawke, don’t worry. Now, soon the host should come out and give a speech, then she will invite all special guests into a room to have dinner with her.”

“And I’m guessing that’s when they will be talking about the special cargo. Do you have any idea what it might be, Varric?”

“Correct. Though my contact is unable to find out exactly what the cargo entails. Only that they are valuable and redirecting them to our people will grant us a fair share of profit.”

Fenris asked, unconvinced, “How will we manage to talk to them over dinner? I’m assuming you don’t know anything, we would just get found out.”

Varric looked up to Fenris and shook his head, “You wouldn’t think this Chappuis is important enough to be considered a special guest, do you?”

“So we’re going to eavesdrop?” Anders suggested,

“Don’t word it so brashly, Anders.” Hawke said, “We would just happen to… overhear. Right, Varric?”

“You’ve got it, Hawke.”

“We’ll need to make haste. To ensure there are multiple hearing spots, we split up. One group goes outside to where the windows are and open them just a little, so no one notices and we could listen in from the outside. The other group will occupy the next room over and open a small hole to listen. Though I am not so sure how smoothly it would go, I have no idea what’s in that room.”

Hawke nodded, “How are we going to split up?”

“Well, I’m going to assume the windows are more likely to be locked than the doors, and whoever wants to open the doors, well, servants must have keys. From the outside though, I’m the only one who has any chances at opening the window.”

“Right… Then I’ll avoid climbing those railings outside, for… reasons.” Hawke said,

“Makes sense,” Anders affirmed, “In that case, I shall stay with Hawke.”

Fenris scowled, “You’re rather assertive, at least I have the sense of knowing who should be making the decisions in this mission.”

Anders glared right back, “You would just be pissing every single noble off in here with that permanent frown of yours, better doing that to the moon instead outside.”

“Right, while you become an abomination right in the middle of the dance floor because you overheard someone not speaking fondly about mages.”

“Why do you-”

“Guys, we really don’t have the luxury of time to be arguing. Hawke, who’s coming with you?” Varric looked back to make sure no one had overheard them.

“I… Maybe Fenris will be more useful with me. In case someone picks a fight, I would not have to resort to use magic.”

Ander sighed and gave up, though he did not take his eyes off the elf, who showed no constraint in expressing his disgust towards him.

“If something happens to Hawke, I’m holding you responsible, Fenris.” Anders warned before he followed Varric to locate a way outside.

“As if you can keep him safe.” Fenris replied and turned to Hawke. He felt embarrassed at his own words, but he could not see Hawke’s reaction through the mask, only a glimpse of his brown eyes.

“Well… I’m glad to know I’m protected, I guess?”

“Let’s… just go.” Fenris blushed slightly.

When they reached the winding staircase towards the second floor where the dinner room must be, Hawke almost fainted at the sight of all those steps. He was not the biggest fan of heights and attempting to walk those stairs in heels… the prospect of looking back and then falling off almost made him shiver.

“Are you… Alright?” Fenris went up four flights of stairs before he looked back at Hawke, who remained at the bottom.

Hawke, of course, could not speak around all the people. His voice would easily expose them. He looked around and finally decided to take off the shoes. Fenris hurried to help him hold them as he needed both hands to lift his dress. Hawke also realized the mask restricted his field of vision and he could not see where he was stepping on the stairs. His nervousness soon went away when Fenris noticed what was wrong and offered him his arm. Hawke linked arms with him and with that hand, grabbed as much dress as he could while his other hand secured him on the railing. He could feel his gloves growing wet and his mask sliding uncomfortably against his face, until finally they reached the second floor and Hawke steadied himself at the edge of the stairs.

A man started at their direction, pushing people aside to make way for himself. He was taller than Hawke and seemed to be in a rush. Hawke saw and wanted to move out of his way before he accidentally shoves him down the stairs, but panicked when he realized his legs could not move, they were shaking! Useless!

Thankfully, Fenris saved him once again by moving himself in front of the man, stopping him in his tracks. The man, annoyed, was about to swing Fenris aside with an arm. But Fenris was faster, and kicked him where he could reach before grabbing Hawke’s arm to lead him further away from the edge of the stairs. The man held his crotch in pain and almost dropped to his knees, people turned to look at the scene but lost sight of the white haired elf and the tall lady with frilly dress.

Hawke recomposed himself and managed to grab a servant holding a serving tray of ham, “The host will dine with me tonight, where is the room? I must know in advance so my poor sense of direction doesn't embarrass myself in front of others!” He spoke as best he could in a high pitched voice without sounding ridiculous. Though his attempt certainly did not convince the servant as she glared at him. “Where. Now.” Hawke tried again, this time in his intimidating voice as he imposed his height upon her. The contrasting pitch frightened the servant and she pointed towards a door before hurrying off.

Fenris did not want to question, seeing Hawke got the information he wanted. Though he was amused at the sight. Hawke looked back at him and gestured for him to follow. They walked through the crowd and reached the doorway. It was locked. They tried the doors of adjacent rooms too. Also locked. Though it made sense that the host did not want people snooping around in her house during the gathering.

“I’m almost at my limit, we need to find a servant. With a key. Fast…” Hawke whispered to Fenris as he pointed at his corset.

Fenris looked around, “Wait here. I’ll figure something out.”. With that, he disappeared into the sea of people with Hawke by himself.

Hawke thought to himself, perhaps this is the chance to finally mingle, what is a party without mingling? Then he remembered how he was supposed to keep himself low key, so he abstained from doing so. He stood quietly, leaning against the wall, trying his best to breathe normally while his intestines were strangled by the corset. He thought he would find peace before Fenris returned, but to his surprise, two masked noblemen who must have _incredibly_ questionable taste in women approached him. Only the upper half of their faces were covered, revealing their beards and wicked smiles.

Hawke gave an awkward smile before he realized they probably can’t see anything.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” The shorter one of them said as he offered Hawke a glass of wine, before he noticed his mask and withdrew the offer, smiling to himself.

“An exotic woman, we don’t see much of them around here, do we, brother?” The taller one said, as he reached out for Hawke’s hand. He managed to grab it for a second before Hawke shook him off. Both their accents were more Antivan than Orlesian, strange.

“Yes, I quite agree. Say, your ladyship, do you have a partner here with you today? It would be poor manners if we tried to mingle with the wife of anyone here, they’re all quite powerful.”

Hawke did not know how to respond, he looked around past them to see if Fenris was coming back. “Erh..” He nodded and waved his hands to urge them away, though they did not take the hint. One of them inched closer to stroke his arm while the other suggested finding a spare room in the mansion to have some fun. At this point Hawke was uncertain if the men were truly oblivious of his ridiculous act or just mocking him for doing such a thing. He continued to deny them by shaking his head and brushing off their touch.

Before his days of practicing blood magic, he avoided using any kind of magic. Malcolm had forced him to join him and Bethany in controlling their powers occasionally, though outside of that Hawke was more interested in daggers and spears. He still had a sword-like edge on his every staff which resembled a spear close enough, but more often he used it to cut his hand than cut others. It wasn’t as if he felt blood magic was superior to close combat… Well, maybe he does. But not for the same reason evil magisters and slavers use it. All people can handle swords, but now that he is the only one left in the family who could use magic, he did not want it to go to waste. Especially if things go south in a place like Kirkwall, he wanted first hand experience in magic related knowledge, to protect mother and Carver. Maybe Gamlen, too, if Hawke is convinced him begging for his help proves to be amusing enough. Hawke had not completely forgotten how to beat people up with a fist, but in this very occasion and in this very costume he felt like fainting in, he could not bring himself to exert any force.

“Please, gentlemen, spare me from this occasion.” He finally said, in his normal voice, hoping to scare them away.

“Oh! And a lovely voice you have, m’lady. Why did you not speak earlier? I thought you were unable to.” Mused the taller Antivan, his smile becoming brighter.

This has got to be a joke.

“Spare you this occasion? You wound us, mistress, you’re the only interesting thing we’ve seen amongst all these nobles’ dull gossips of political agendas.” Said the shorter one,

“Do your masks make you deaf aside from making you blind?” Hawke asked, slightly amused,

“What could you possibly mean?” The short one replied,

“You don’t think… me, this, ‘lady’ you’re calling is rather… unladylike?”

“Quite the opposite!” Said the tall one as he observed Hawke’s pecs as if glamorous orbs of fine tits, “When we travelled to Par Vollen, we saw many women quite like yourself. Such exotic beauty, intense demeanor, especially in the bedroom.” His Antivan accent grew more seductive by the second.

“What if I told you that I’m actually a…” Hawke was not sure whether to expose himself there and then, surely telling these two creeps would not make a significant impact on the large scheme of things. After all, two Antivans in an Orlesian party is never a good sign.

“A human? Yes, we are quite aware. Do not worry, we did not want to compare you to a Qunari, we merely wanted to tell you of our, well, past experiences in the matter. It would certainly make the invitation more desirable, yes?” The short one said. Hawke wondered if the two shared the same mind, their replies seemed to be in sync. Despite their physical contrasts, Hawke still cannot tell them apart.

“Well…” Hawke decided against it, for the moment at least. The night is still young, they may yet meet again. “In that case, I suppose I’m… I’m glad?” Hawke wanted to get out of here, this entire thing was so absurd, why does this conversation even exist?

“Oh, so charming! Isn’t she, brother?” The tall one touched his forehead dramatically, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I doubt the countess would mind, she is always so lovely and welcoming of us after all.”

Hawke saw Fenris at a distance looking at them suspiciously. It seemed he wanted to get him out of there, he did not seem very pleased. Hawke looked at him and shook his head slightly. Fenris did not seem less angry or distressed by the two strange men around Hawke, he kept an eye out but also kept his distance. Hawke listened in at the mention of the countess, the host of this event, the source of the intel.

“Say, m’lady, what is your name? You must be here tonight because of your admiration for the countess!” Said the tall one,

“Well, yes, I’m Lady Chappuis of…” Hawke forgot the house to which the real Chappuis belonged to, so he just said, “Orlais. Yes, I admire the countess greatly, though it is a shame she had yet to make an appearance.”

“In that case,” the tall one continued, “What do you say to a… let’s call it a conditional invitation. Oh yes. We are one of the special guests to dine with the countess tonight. We may take you inside with us so you are let in some secrets… Afterwards, in exchange, you join us for a night under the stars… How romantic!”

Hawke did not know how to respond, it seemed they were quite serious, and they actually bought his absolutely atrocious attempt in pretending to be a woman. Hawke wanted out badly and was miserable, though he blamed less his last-minute attempt to squeeze him and his friends into the party, and more in the Antivan brothers’ impossibly preposterous definitions of women. If it weren’t for them, he’d probably already be inside the adjacent room with Fenris flirting while he took off his corset and everything else.

“Are you sure, gentlemen? I hear these gatherings hold no small secret, it would be inappropriate for an outsider to overhear things.” Hawke said as he thought of the security to this place, with a guard who gets bribed probably every other night and windows Varric could probably pick using a string. Now that he thinks about it, it did seem just a little off. He could just be imagining things, though.

“Yes, of course! Though I would not discount the possibility of her putting a spell on you to prevent leaking the secrets… But that is not the point, you are here to see the countess close up in person, not hear her scandalous secrets, are you?” The short man said,

“Then, I gladly accept, with gratitude.” Hawke tried doing a bow, but had no idea how to do it so he just nodded. Maker’s flaming ass, he needed to loosen the corset, he should have never told Fenris to do it so tight just to impress Varric.

“Wonderful, Lady Chappuis, meet us at the entrance of that door over there after the countess delivers her speech, which could happen any moment now.” The tall one said,

“Meanwhile, we will mingle elsewhere, and leave your ladyship a moment’s peace.” The short one said, smiling.

They left as quickly as they arrived, and were nowhere to be seen within half a minute.

Fenris approached Hawke and said in a low voice, “You knew those people?”

“No… Do you have the keys? We can talk more somewhere private.”

“Yes. Follow me.”

They navigated through the crowds and unlocked one of the rooms, sliding in before anyone could notice. The room resembled a servant’s quarter, though it could just be any regular guest bedroom. There were bookshelves, a bed, a desk and chair, some candles and carpet. Luckily there were no major obstacles preventing them making a small hole to the dining room next door.

Fenris locked the door behind them. When he turned around, Hawke had loosened his corset and sat down on a bed catching his breath. Fenris suddenly remembered that the heels were forgotten somewhere, but it did not seem Hawke had any desire to put them on again. It was good that his dress covered his entire leg.

“How’d you get the keys?” Hawke asked when he recovered,

“One of the servants. Asked them to lead me to the privy and I knocked them out.”

“You didn’t try to seduce them and get the key that way?” Hawke smiled, “It would work on me, just saying.”

“I’m not so charming like you, Hawke.” Fenris smiled a little, though it faded quickly when he asked in return, “But it seemed you somehow managed to seduce some noblemen. For what purpose?”

“I can’t believe I managed it, I was honestly not even trying. They must be daft or something, unless it’s a trap. They said they’ll get me inside the dining room to hear what the countess had to say.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, “You managed to do that?”

“You doubt my wit and quick thinking?” Hawke laughed, “Now, how are we going to make a hole without anyone noticing or hearing noises?”

“Is that necessary now that you can go in?”

“Of course, they might just be joking with me. You’ll stay in here to listen, and maybe barge in to help me if things go south.”

“We did not procure any weapons upon entering this establishment.”

“You think?” Hawke smiled at Fenris as he lifted his dress and pulled out a regular sized sword. “There’s also a dagger, amongst other things. It seemed Lady Chappuis was no ordinary guest either. Or maybe the Lady Chappuis we seized was already another imposter…”

Fenris marvelled at the sight, could that be one of the reasons why Hawke found the stairs so traumatizing? That and his likely fear of heights?

“I am most impressed you were able to bring these in.”

“That’s good to hear. Now my idea is, you phase objects through that wall and pull them out! Make a hole, pretend it’s someone’s chest, maybe that will make things more exciting for you?” Hawke said as he pointed to a wall,

“I can’t phase objects, Hawke. I can only phase through my own arm.”

“No, you always wore gauntlets and whatnot, so it must work because they had phased through things too. Maybe if you wear the dagger so it’s close to your arm? And you release it when you pull your arm out, the dagger gets stuck in there, then we pull it out.”

“I can certainly try. Though don’t get your hopes up.” Fenris took the dagger from Hawke, his markings glowed momentarily as Hawke watched from afar. Hopefully at the corner where Fenris was making a hole, nobody in the other room would notice.

At this moment, Hawke felt a growing sense of intimacy with Fenris. Afterall, they are alone inside a locked room. Whatever the purpose may be, there must be some sort of tension. Does Fenris feel the same way? Or was Hawke just thinking too much?

“Thanks for helping me back there.” Hawke said,

Fenris stopped tinkering with the wall, “What for?”

“Up the stairs. Getting the keys. Stuff.” Hawke said, it was a bit unlike him to suddenly become nervous. “You missed the opportunity back there to shove those two men aside, they would have thought you were the lady’s husband, I would pay a sovereign to see the look on their faces. Without the masks, of course.”

“There is no need for thanks, really. I am sure any one of your friends would do the same.” Fenris was knelt down close to the edge of a wall, his back towards Hawke. Hawke could not see his reaction, and he surely couldn’t have either, with Hawke’s lady mask on all night.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Anders would never have gotten the key, he’d be tripping over nobles in no time, probably would have fallen down the stairs too.”

Fenris stayed silent.

“What a feat, saving the dashing Hawke twice in two days. And here I thought I was the one always saving the day.” Hawke knew he was rambling, he probably didn’t look too attractive right now either.

“I… can’t pull it out.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s stuck inside.”

Hawke thought he was hallucinating about something inappropriate before he realized Fenris was talking about the dagger.

“Oh, right.” Hawke laughed, “Would have sounded bad out of context. Let me have a look.”

“Wh- That wasn’t… I…” Fenris yielded, “Though… I think I could manage to hear them through the walls if I pressed my ears against it.”

Hawke already had his hands on the dagger, “Oh… yeah… I forgot elves had much better hearing. You could have said so earlier, but no matter. Well, maybe the servants would appreciate this new relic decorating these walls.”

He took off the mask and felt heat escaping from all directions. His hair was a little wet, and he didn't even want to feel his beard.

All of a sudden, Fenris looked at him, took off one of his gloves and reached out to his face. Hawke’s heart raced, he thought this was progressing a little faster than he’d anticipated, not that he minded, but…

He was about to reach for Fenris’s waist before Fenris said, “There’s a… some sort of smear here? Could it be from the mask?” He touched the bridge of his nose and showed Hawke the blood stain on his finger.

“Now that you mention, yes… kind of hurts.” Hawke observed the inside of the mask, blood there, too. The scraping against his nose must have somehow made a cut. “I hope this doesn’t make me look less handsome.”

“Actually… I think more.”

“Hmm… Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Fenris smiled and pulled on the gloves again, “I’m sure there is no need to repeat the obvious.”

Hawke felt himself doing an incredibly stupid smile, he wanted to hide his teeth but rekoned it would just make him look more laughable. “You didn’t… leave anyone behind, after your escape?”

“I had no interest in making friends, not when Danarius kept me by his side all day like a dog on a leash.”

“Right… Just, making sure.”

“Making sure what?” Fenris looked confused,

“Ah… Hey, help me get this corset back on, I think the countess’s speech is just about over.”

Soon, Hawke started to regret his life choices again. The pull on his ribs, the pain in his muscles… He was truly not made for this. Never again. He tried breathing normally, and told Fenris to stay in the room until either they finished or if something goes south. Fenris reassured him and Hawke left the room. They’ve only met for two days, surely Hawke wasn’t… In _love_ or anything. He had slept several times with Isabela already, she made his heart race, but that was in bed. This?

Brushing his thoughts aside, he managed to find the two Antivan brothers waiting for the Lady Chappuis. Surprised they actually kept their word, Hawke strode towards them, his hands together, resting in front of his dress.

The two bowed at the sight of Hawke, they reminded him to be polite, then opened the doors to let him enter first.

The countess, several ordinary looking guests with their masks off, a man with white hair and beard in robes, a servant, a long dining table with candle stands, two empty seats.

“Charmed, friends.” The countess stood in welcome of the brothers. “And who is this… guest you have invited? I remember telling no guests at this particular gathering.”

“She will be no trouble, madam.” The short one said as he held one of Hawke’s arms, “She is most delightful, quiet, and unfortunately… deaf.”

Huh? Why do these people go all the way to help him? What are they attempting to achieve?

“Yes, I assure you, ma’am. We merely wish her not to get lost amongst all those people when we attend this meeting. You know me, my magic allows me to detect the nature of people quite easily.” The tall one said as he led Hawke towards the seats, he gestured to the elven servant to procure another chair.

“Well… Of course.” The countess said. “Now, ladies and gentlemen…”

Hawke turned to observe the windows. They were slightly ajar, Varric and Anders must be outside. He felt assured at the knowledge, and sat in anticipation of hearing what the special cargo is.

Almost everyone in the room looked at him at least three times. But he gets that a lot. Tonight, at least.

The countess talked about routes, agents, bribery, assassins and all sorts of things in securing the cargo out of Kirkwall. Though she never mentioned what it was. Hawke remembered some of the locations, but he also really needed to know what it was.

The old man in robes finally spoke, “I have an additional request. I know of another slave who would make a fortune, if added to this list.”

Slaves? Hawke persperated. Is that what the cargo is?

“I can provide his exact location here in Kirkwall. He used to be under my command, yet he managed to escape. He would be easy to identify for his lyrium markings and white hair. Send your assassins to capture him, and I assure you there will be no disappointments.”

Hawke took a deep breath, this man… The slave he mentioned was almost certainly Fenris. How long has he been onto him? Fenris had just secured Danarius’s mansion yesterday, how did news get to this person so quickly? Who is he?

Fenris must have heard all this, hopefully he doesn’t charge into the room and start to kill everyone.

The meeting went on, the scribe took notes occasionally and the countess soon ordered him to go and execute the plans of their meeting. Hawke did not keep track of time, but his withering sense of existence, all thanks to the corset, tells him it had lasted too long. He only slept for a few hours last night too. Or rather, this morning. He was tired. He should have got Anders to wear this, and just went with their original plan instead of being stuck inside this mess.

Then, just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard a loud crash and then tables started flipping. Food fell, drinks stained the tablecloth, then it was more clear that blood also started to stain it. A woman tried to run towards the doorway but a dagger flew right through her head. Hawke stood up fast, he knew his priority was to get out of here, but instead he shifted to the corner to avoid all the chaos to undo his corset. He watched as the two Antivan brothers started to slaughter everyone inside the room, some men tried to fight back. The man in robes joined the brothers and was… doing blood magic? Maker, what the hell is going on?

Hawke dodged a goblet flying towards his direction, he dodged it while he got out of the dress completely, he was free! He quickly grabbed a nearby man’s body and stripped him of his bloody shirt and jacket and tucked himself in. There had never been so much comfort rushing through him all at once, except maybe during sex, but this is not the time for that.

By the time he finished, everyone in the room was dead except for himself, one of the brothers and the man in robes. The Antivan blocked the doorway and pointed his dagger towards Hawke.

“You… You are not our blood mage, are you? He is!” The taller one of the Antivan said as he inched closer,

Hawke looked at the man in robes, is this what it’s about? A scheme to murder everyone after getting the intel, using two crows and a blood mage?

Hawke did not have his mask anymore, he backed away but stepped on a slippery plate and fell onto his back.

The crows must have thought he was the blood mage they were looking for, that’s why they helped him in! Too bad they were mistaken. How did they know, though? Right… one of them touched his hand, he must have sensed something.

“Too bad, imposter. You die.” The crow was about to thrust his dagger through Hawke’s eyes, but the windows broke and his friends jumped in. 

As the crow was distracted, Hawke seized a goblet and smacked him on the shin. He yelled in response and Hawke stood up, kicking him in the face and took away his dagger. He ended up on the ground, but rolled over quickly when Hawke tried to drive the dagger into him. The blood mage, meanwhile, was at an advantage. All the bloodshed in the room gave him plenty of resources for demon summoning, which was exactly what he did. A bunch of demons rose from the pools of blood and began to attack Varric. Fenris for some reason, froze in his spot, staring at the blood mage. Anders used this opportunity to smack him on the head, telling him to do something.

The crow had recovered and got himself a sharp steak knife, he ran towards Hawke, followed by two rage demons.

Hawke did not have anything to channel his magic with, but given all the blood on the floor, he figured he could do something. He pressed both his hands inside a deep puddle of blood, and when he threw them up, waves of blood fused with magic was directed towards his enemies, covering them with filth. He then cast hemorrhage and the blood began to corrupt their flesh. The crow screamed as he dropped the knife and peeled at his eyes, to which one of them soon fell out. Then, he exploded in a violent manner, part of his arm was propelled towards the other end of the room.

The rage demon was still standing, but Anders summoned a bolt of lightning and it was gone too.

“Shit, the bastard escaped!” Varric called as he ran towards the window frame. “Some demon flew him out. Weird shit, seriously.”

“We need to get out of here, they’re pounding on the doors!” Hawke yelled as he helped Anders get out, then Varric. Fenris stood in place, irresponsive of Hawke’s urges.

“Fenris! Shit.” Hawke ran towards him and dragged him towards the window, where he finally came to his senses and got out. The door of the dining room gave in and guards and templars swarmed the room, stepping on the bodies of noblemen as they charged towards them with their swords.

Hawke jumped out of the window and landed on the roof of the adjacent building, so far the adrenaline had kept him on his feet, but the distance below him was absolutely petrifying. He swallowed and followed Varric, who was up ahead.

“Hawke! Watch out!” Fenris called out to him and Hawke turned around, prepared to have an arrow to his neck, but Fenris charged towards him just in time to deflect it with the sword Hawke gave him.

They quickly went down the roof into the alleyways, where within ten minutes, their pursuers had lost sight of them. Hopefully their identities were concealed under the dark of night. Otherwise they’ll have to hire some scapegoats to cover for them.

“Shit… That was not what I had expected.” Varric panted as he led the party to where they had cached their armor and weapons.

“Are you alright, Hawke? I’ll heal you right away.” Anders said, worried.

Hawke did not suffer any injuries, luckily, thanks to Fenris. Though he did leave the party with a waist to recover and the bloody smear across the bridge of his nose, which for the latter he decided to keep, since Fenris thought it looked agreeable.

“I’m fine, Anders. How did things go for you guys?” Hawke waved him away,

“We managed to get out onto the roof, but the windows were already open. It seemed that whoever was killing everyone inside wanted to escape quietly.” Anders replied, walking alongside Hawke, shoulder to shoulder.

“How was killing everyone supposed to keep things quiet?” Hawke asked,

“Varric had assumed they were supposed to have servants drug the food. But somehow that didn’t happen.”

“That… might have been me.” Fenris said, “I knocked out one of the servants, maybe he was supposed to have done that.”

Varric turned another corner and located their cache. “Well, I’m just glad we still got the intel. Although the mage that got away could stir up trouble.”

“Were you scared back there?” Anders asked Fenris, in a tone that is more menacing than caring.

“Why?” Fenris replied,

“You just stood there like a statue while everyone was getting their arse kicked.”

“No, I… Just forget about it.” Fenris said as he retrieved his equipment out of the cache.

The party discussed their plans for the following day, and parted. Varric mentioned how he will be following up on the news and what to do next, but it was good Hawke managed to get himself inside, since he was able to fill Varric in on the gaps that he did not manage to hear.

With that, Varric headed towards The Hanged Man, and Anders Darktown.

Hawke was supposed to go to Lowtown, which was the opposite direction of where Fenris was going. But he wanted to speak.

“The way you looked at that man back there, who is he?” Hawke asked, “Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“It’s…” Fenris stuttered, “He’s Danarius, my old master.”


End file.
